


Notice Me

by ziaminmypants



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziaminmypants/pseuds/ziaminmypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn notices cuts on Niall's arm one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notice Me

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: ziaminmypants

He knows he’s not the best in the band. Harry, Liam, and Zayn are the best singers. Even Louis knocks it out of the park, but Niall, he doesn’t. When he sings, the heavens don’t open up and shine their light on him like they do any of the other members of One Direction. He’s the mediocre one, and he very much aware of it.

Sure, the fans support him, but mostly for the band. He’s been known to crash the twitcam site, but he knows it’s just because the fans want to see a glimpse of a ‘larry’ or ‘ziam’ moment. Niall’s used to being set in the back of interviews and asked the least amount of questions. Heck, Zayn’s been talking more than he has lately, and it’s kind of scaring him that he’s beginning to fade in the distance.

The rest of the band seems to be oblivious that any of this is happening. Of course, they don’t know about the hate on twitter and in fan mail, and once, he doesn’t know how they got their number, he had a message in his inbox. They all pretty much said the same things that he already knew. That he was a liability to the group and that he should leave the band so they can become ridiculously famous because they won’t do it with him in the band.

All this, plus the fact that he’s unbelievably homesick, has gotten the usual carefree Irishman extremely insecure. Niall stopped hanging out with the rest of the guys when they asked if he wanted to go out with them, he stopped eating with them, self-conscious about how much he eats now after he had been constantly made fun. He was sure that none of the boys had noticed his change of behavior, but they had and they weren’t sure what to do about it.

With no one to really talk to about what’s happening to him, Niall had turned to cutting. The first time, it really had happened by accident. He was in the bathroom, feeling particularly depressed, wishing that he could just go home and stay there forever. Niall had gotten so mad at himself that he had punched the bathroom mirror. As he stood there, motionless as the blood whelped up on the cuts on his hand, he was memorized by the relief he felt. This was something he could control from his spiraling life. While he did feel the sting, it was worth it. It seemed to ground him, while at the same time relieve him from all the pent up anger that had developed inside him.

Ever since then, he’s found cleaner ways to cut himself. He had to give excuses as to why his mirror was busted and why his hand was all cut up that he didn’t want to have to give again. Niall figured that everyone bought his excuse and moved on; because let’s face it, it was easy to put Niall on the back burner. And he got it; the boys had enough to worry about in their own lives. But sometimes, Niall just wanted someone to notice him. He just wanted someone to care. Was that too much to ask?

He had gotten really good at hiding the angry red marks on his wrist. When their tour moved to the states, he had even moved the places he cut to his thighs so they weren’t noticeable. Now they were back in England, where he could get away with wearing hoodies and jumpers, he was back to cutting his wrists. While slicing the soft skin of his thigh had been a good alternative, nothing could compare to digging that knife into the rough skin of his wrist.

Last night, he had cut deep, bleeding for hours. Niall thought he had gone a little too far, and didn’t think it would stop bleeding, but eventually it had and here he was, arriving at the studio to lay down his part of the tracks that he knew would get overpowered by the rest of the band member’s voices. He wasn’t even sure why he was in the band anymore. Maybe it was because four member boy bands didn’t do as well as five member boy bands? It was a stupid reason, but it sounded true enough. He’d never seen a popular foursome boy band.

After singing his part of the chorus and walking out of the little recording room, Niall stretched. He hadn’t got much sleep last night due to the fact that he had been trying to wait until he stopped bleeding profusely into the tissues. What he wasn’t aware of was that the sleeves of his shirt had slid down when he did this, revealing to the rest his ugly red scars. Thankfully, when he subconsciously tugged his sleeved back over his wrist, no one had noticed them. Except that one of them had, and this was really getting out of hand. Niall would later regret that stretch.

He was sitting on the couch while he waited for the rest of the boys to finish up, when Niall felt the couch dip under the weight of someone. He didn’t have to look away from his guitar to know it was Zayn. Them being the two quietest ones, they seemed to be more aware of one another than the rest of the lads.

Niall hummed a few chords of the song he had been writing, which no one seemed to care that he had been writing for this album. “What’s up, finished?” he said, his eyes still trained on the guitar in his lap.

“Niall, what was on your wrists?” And Niall freezes. He thought he had gotten away with it. He sighs, closing his eyes.

“Niall, tell me. What is it? What’s been going on with you? You’re acting different.”

He knew that Zayn was just being his protective self. Heck, Harry had even said in an interview one time that the olive skinned boy was protective over Niall.

“’S nothing. Don’t worry about it. Go back to the lads.” He states, not looking over at Zayn, knowing if he did, he might betray himself.

Without permission, Zayn is grabbing the wrist that has the deep cut, and Niall is wincing involuntary as the sleeve of his jumper is pulled up to reveal what he had been doing the night before. A gasp escapes Zayn’s lips, whether he meant it to or not.

“Niall… what have you done?” His fingers went to the raised skin, feathering the pads of his fingers softly over it, and while Niall feels the pressure, he doesn’t feel anything else. He’s learned to go numb a long time ago.

“I said it was nothing, please leave it.” He said, pulling his arm away and shoving his sleeve up.

But Zayn isn’t having it, and he’s making Niall talk, whether he has to sit on him and tickle his way to some answers. “Niall, we can do this the easy or the hard way. The easy way is that you talk to me, the hard way is I go to the boys with this, and you know what will happen if I have to do that. So it’s really your choice.”

Niall groans because it’s really not a choice. The lads would put him in therapy or something and he didn’t want that. No, he guessed talking to Zayn was the better option.

“I’m not good enough.” He simply states, and he thinks that is the best way to describe what he’s feeling and to get why he’s cuts, but Zayn is looking at him confused.

“I don’t understand why aren’t you good enough?” Zayn is asking.

Sighing, Niall props his guitar on the side of the couch. “I’m the worst in the band, I’m not as good as you or Harry or Liam or Louis. I’m the weakest singer in the group and sometimes I don’t even know why you guys keep me around. Hundreds of people agree that I should have never been in this band, that you guys are better off without me. But I’m too chicken shit to off myself or leave the band because what if this is my only chance? And that’s shit too because all I’m doing it riding off of someone else’s’ success.”

Zayn hasn’t heard anything as ridiculous as this. “That is rubbish, and you know it. The boys and I need you here. You complete us, and if you weren’t here, we’d be missing a part, a very important part, of One Direction.” He breathes, pulling the younger boy into a hug. “We all love you and have never thought of you as a burden to this group. In fact, you make everything fun, always laughing and I’m sure I’m not the only one that will agree to this, but you lift everyone’s spirits. So stop thinking all this nonsense, because it’s absolutely absurd.”

Niall his blinking, does the boys really think that about him? And while the rest of the boys aren’t here to confirm it, he trusts Zayn to tell him the truth. He relaxes against Zayn, his arms circling the thin boy’s torso.

“And anyhow, you shouldn’t listen to everyone else, because they are just jealous of your position. We are lucky to have you Niall, and don’t you ever forget that. We’ve even been urging the recording team to put more of you in this next album because you’re such a great singer. So don’t ever think that the boys and I don’t have your back, because we do.”

“Thanks.” Was all he could say, and while it had made him feel better, he knew it wasn’t going to solve all his problems at once, but it was one small step towards happiness.

“No problem and Niall come to me before you do that again. I’ll make sure you never feel insecure again. The boys and I love you like a brother and I don’t know what I’d do without you if you managed to go too far. So don’t do it again, promise me.”

Niall takes a deep breathe. “I’ll try, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try my best.” He whispers, finding a peaceful home inside those warm, long arms. For once, Niall feels that he matters, that the lads really do care. And for once, Niall feels like he’s being noticed.


End file.
